


Wrapped in Red

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [6]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Mental Illness, M/M, Murder, Sex Toys, Superpower Sex, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘You crash here?’ Ricky asks, sitting on the bed and seeing the crumpled clothes beside it. Chris shrugs.‘More often than not,’ he says, expression stony.‘That’s no way to live,’ Ricky says, grinning and shaking his head at him.‘What do you want me to say, Rick?’ Chris says, spreading his hands, ‘that the apartment’s too quiet, that I hate sleeping there without you?’ Ricky feels his heart clench.Ricky’s back on the scene after a long absence, and this time he’s back for Chris. Despite the difficulties of the past and the realities of the present Ricky’s determined not to let anything pull them apart.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Wrapped in Red

Ricky’s knocks. Metal on Metal. One of his matching pair of knuckle-dusters ringing out a muffled note. A small panel opens. A pair of eyes flick over him and he hears a series of clunks as the lock is opened. He feels a half-smile tug at his lips. At least Chris has warned his guys to be polite. 

‘He’s in the basement, Mr Olson,’ the bouncer mumbles as he holds the door for Ricky.

‘Mr Olson?’ Ricky grins, cracking his knuckles, ‘are you my fucking doctor?’ The guy blanches but Ricky’s already passed him, cackling as he stalks down the corridor. He can hear the bass pounding from Chris’ club above him but he turns and heads down a set of concrete stairs instead.

He can hear the screams before he gets half way down.

He slips into the underground room, taking in the scene before him. The screaming is coming from a figure taped to an office chair in the centre of the room. Beneath the chair is a plastic sheet, just as well as the person seems to be dripping. Ricky’s not sure if it’s blood or piss or both. He folds his arms. 

Justin’s stood astride the figure, shirtsleeves pushed up and pink hair pushed back off his face. 

He’s got both hands sunk in the person’s lank hair. And now Ricky knows why they’re screaming; in the quest for the information in their head Justin is showing them their worst nightmares. Ryan’s perched, arms and legs crossed, on the arm of the oddly chintzy couch Chris is sat on, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his gloved hands, fingers interlaced watching. Vinny’s pacing behind them and Ricky can just see the slight flickering as he tries to keep himself still; he hates screaming. 

No one seems to notice his arrival so he moves to stand at the back of the group of a dozen or so of Chris’ gang, who seem to be there just to watch the show. As Ricky watches, Ryan bends to speak into Chris’ ear and Chris’ eyes immediately snap to him. Ryan grins at him too and Ricky smirks back. There’s no hiding from a Telepath. 

‘Anything?’ Chris says to Justin, who grunts and shakes his head. He withdraws his hands and steps back from the person.

‘Nothing useful,’ Justin says.

‘Thank you for trying,’ Chris says, inclining his head as he stands. The energy in the room subtly shifts. This is it. Chris’ big finale that everyone is currently dodging their duties to witness. Ricky crosses his arms, feeling his skin prickle as Chris steps onto the sheet. The person starts to scream again, begging and pleading. It doesn't hurt, Ricky’s been told. He watches as Chris steps up to the person and catches their chin in one gloved hand to keep their head still as he presses his lips to theirs. That’s it. His worst and last ability; the Kiss of Death. 

For a moment nothing happens but then there’s a sort of crackling, rustling noise. The screaming stops as first the flesh then the bones disintegrate to nothing and Chris is left with a handful of dust in less than 30 seconds. Ricky lets out his breath in a gust, skin still prickling unpleasantly. Chris brushes off his hands and orders the room cleared. Ricky moves towards him as two people neatly fold up the sheet while a third wheels the soiled office chair out of the room, and the rest trot out talking in low voices. 

‘I’ll see you later,’ Ryan says as he passes him on his way out. 

‘You could always stay, Chris won’t mind you watching,’ Ricky says, smirking, teasing him. 

‘Dude, c’mon, I just ate,’ Ryan says, laughing and bumping his shoulder against Ricky’s affectionately, although they both knew Ricky could throw him across the room with his little finger. Ricky snorts and goes to Chris and Justin, who are standing together discussing intently. Justin is shaking his head but he stops when Ricky reaches them. 

‘Hey,’ he says and Ricky nods to him, eyes moving to Chris. He’s looking at Vinny, worrying one of the studs in his lip. 

‘J, can you make sure he’s okay?’ Chris mutters to Justin, nodding towards where Vinny is practically vibrating in place. 

‘Sure,’ Justin says, sloping off with a wink, ‘I’ve got some coke, we can have ourselves a party.’

‘Opposite of helpful!’ Chris hisses after him but Justin just laughs and Vinny seems happy enough to be led out of the basement with Justin’s arm around his shoulders.

Chris and Ricky look at each other. Chris cracks first, grinning at him. 

‘Your guy called me _Mr Olson_ ,’ Ricky says, grinning. Chris snorts. 

‘They’re still your guys too,’ he says with a shrug, ‘—if you wanted that.’ Ricky sucks his lip. 

He’s been taking something of a sabbatical from the lifestyle. Following being shot. And all the mess and shaking hands and nightmares that followed that. But he still wants Chris. The guns and the gear he could take or leave, but Chris is _his_. 

‘You want to go somewhere more private?’ Chris asks. Ricky snorts at the line but nods a and lets Chris lead him through the door behind them and up two flights of stairs. It’s a sort of studio apartment with a bed on one wall and a tiny kitchenette on the other and bathroom in the back but no windows.

‘You crash here?’ Ricky asks, sitting on the bed and seeing the crumpled clothes beside it. Chris shrugs.

‘More often than not,’ he says, expression stony. 

‘That’s no way to live,’ Ricky says, grinning and shaking his head at him. 

‘What do you want me to say, Rick?’ Chris says, spreading his hands, ‘that the apartment’s too quiet, that I hate sleeping there without you?’ Ricky feels his heart clench. 

‘That’s kind of what I’m here about,’ he says, forcing himself to look at Chris. He looks pale and scared and Ricky knows he thinks he’s about to get his heart broken. 

‘I want—’ Ricky starts, rubbing a hand over his mouth, ‘I wanted to see you. I _want_ to see you. Y’know, all the time.’ Chris lets out a heavy breath.

‘Fuck,’ he says, visibly deflating and coming to sit on the bed beside Ricky, ‘I thought you were going to say you were out for good.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Ricky says, nudging his shoulder while Chris sinks his head into his hands. 

'It's not your fault,' he says, muffled by his hands.

‘I missed you,’ Ricky says softly. Chris makes a quiet noise then his arms are going around Ricky and he’s pushing him on his back on the bed and pressing his face to the t-shirt over Ricky’s stomach as he lays between his thighs. Ricky doesn’t touch him though he wants to, just lets Chris rub his body against him, arching his back.

‘You got gloves?’ he asks, feeling his cock now pressing insistently against his zip and wanting to touch Chris. 

‘Yeah, yeah, I’ve got stuff,’ Chris says, standing and moving around the bed and retrieving a box of black latex gloves he must have snagged from the studio. He also sets a pack of condoms and lube on the mattress and disappears into the bathroom. Ricky pushes himself up on his elbows, feeling a flicker of heat, now curious what _stuff_ might be. Chris returns from the bathroom.

‘Is that yours?’ Ricky asks, smirking, as Chris sets a dildo on the mattress too. 

‘Who else?’ Chris mutters as he flushes, ‘—just if you want.’ 

‘I want,’ Ricky says, shifting closer and reaching for Chris. 

‘Keep your shirt on,’ Chris says, as he sits back on the bed and Ricky gets up, to pull off his jeans. Chris watches him. Ricky can tell he’s nervous. Ricky can understand, sex can be a little complicated when every living thing you touch turns to dust. Ricky unlaces his shoes and steps out of them. He leans over Chris to grab gloves and snaps them on. 

‘C’mon, you can at least take your jacket off,’ he says. Chris bites his lip but does shrug his jacket off so he’s just in the long-sleeved t-shirt beneath. He pulls at the sleeves, ensuring none of his skin is exposed save his face and neck. Satisfied, he leans back on his hands to watch Ricky undress. Ricky strips his jeans and underwear. He’s hard and he pulls up his t-shirt a bit, as he approaches the bed, to show Chris. 

‘Fuck,’ Chris mumbles, eyes flickering over him as his hands come up to help Ricky climb into his lap and settle astride his thighs, skin sticking a little to his vinyl. Ricky puts his hands on his shoulders, wriggling his hips close enough to press his cock to Chris’ stomach. Chris pulls at his t-shirt to make sure his skin is covered but then he takes hold of Ricky’s hips, coaxing Ricky to start rocking them into him. 

‘You look so fucking good,’ he says, eyes on where Ricky’s cock is stroking over the fabric of his t-shirt leaving a glossy trail of pre-come. Ricky hums, pressing into him a little more. ‘You want my cock, baby?’ Chris asks, hands tight on Ricky’s hips. Ricky feels his cock throb at the words, eyelashes flickering. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, panting, ‘so much.’ Chris brings a hand to Ricky’s mouth, pressing two gloved fingers to his lips and Ricky opens his mouth to let him push them in. He licks and sucks the smooth, plasticky fabric of the gloves as Chris pushes his fingers in and out of his mouth. 

Chris takes his hand out of Ricky’s mouth, bringing it between his cheeks and brushing a wet fingertip over his hole. Ricky lets out a breath and Chris carefully pushes a finger into him. Ricky starts to rock on his hands.

‘Fuck,’ Chris says again, other hand tight on Ricky’s thigh. He pulls his hand back briefly snagging the lube and applying it to the gloves as well. He adds another finger when he pushes into Ricky this time and Ricky moans, feeling the stretch as he works him open. His skin’s hot from the friction of Chris’ clothes and he can feel his body clenching around Chris’ fingers. 

‘Can you—’ Ricky pants, squirming on his fingers. Chris nods, withdrawing his hand and reaching for the toy.

‘Do this for me, baby’ Chris says as he gives Ricky a condom, unable to open it with his slick gloves. Ricky rips the packet and rolls it onto the toy. Chris takes it back, pulling him closer again, and Ricky can feel him stroking in between his cheeks. He moans, shifting against Chris, fingers flexing on his shoulders. 

Ricky can feel Chris’ thumb pressing at his hole, guiding the toy into him. He gasps. His cheeks are burning as Chris presses further into him. Ricky moans feeling his body stretch. He bites his lip, starting to let his hips rock, toy sliding in and out of him. He can feel Chris’ breath on his skin. 

Chris’ other hand is still tight on his hip as he fucks into Ricky. Ricky hisses through his teeth, arching his back, pushing back. 

Ricky grips Chris’ shoulders tighter, leaning back and pushing his hips up, cock smearing across Chris’ t-shirt. His thighs are tight around Chris’ waist and he’s sweating in his t-shirt. 

‘Fuck,’ Chris grunts again, digging his fingers into Ricky’s ass as he thrust the cock into him faster. Ricky moans, feeling his guts twisting up, hot and sensitive.

‘Touch me,’ Ricky mumbles, fingers clawing, ‘Chris, _please_ , touch me.’ 

‘Okay, yeah, fuck,’ Chris says, moving his hand to his cock and starting to stroke him, slick glove sliding over his skin. Ricky whines, squirming between Chris’ hand and the toy still thrusting in and out of him. Ricky’s shaking, hands fisted in Chris’ t-shirt, thighs quivering as he feels his guts twisting up tighter and tighter. The sensation peaks and his body contracts as the orgasm unfurls, sending sparks rippling outwards. 

‘ _Shit!_ Rick, get up,’ Chris gasps and Ricky blinks at him dazed. Chris pulls the toy out of him quickly making him gasp, oversensitive, and pushes him back a little. Then Ricky realises he’s ripped Chris’ t-shirt and feels a jab of panic. Ricky staggers up clumsily. Chris is staring at him, eyes scanning across his skin to see if he’d brushed him by mistake. 

‘I’m fine,’ Ricky says, still gasping his breath back, ‘totally fine.’ Chris groans with relief, dropping onto his back on the bed. 

Ricky moves over to the bed, sitting down beside Chris. He reaches over to touch the front on Chris’ jeans, pressing with the thick part of his palm. Chris groans again. 

‘ _Rick_ ,’ he says softly, sounding worn. 

‘I’ll be careful,’ Ricky tells him, ‘—let me.’ Chris huffs but allows him to unzip his jeans. Ricky’s hand is sweating in the gloves as he slides it into Chris’ underwear. Chris moans and Ricky wonders if anyone has dared to touch Chris like this since he left. Chris moans again, pushing into Ricky’s hand. Ricky turns to him more, putting his other hand on his hip to keep him down, making sure not to touch his skin, giving him short, hard strokes. 

‘ _Rick_ ,’ he mumbles again. Ricky realises he must be close, no doubt wound up from Ricky bouncing his lap. 

‘It’s okay,’ Ricky says, pressing harder on Chris’ hip to keep him down as he writhes under his hand. Then Chris goes rigid, back arching, as he comes over Ricky’s hand with a sharp gasp. 

Ricky lets him go and sits back striping the gloves. Chris doesn’t move for a moment, panting, hands resting on his stomach. 

Ricky wants to touch him again but can’t without the gloves.

‘You cool?’ he asks and Chris nods, sitting up. He looks flushed and spaced-out and there’s come on his shirt. He blinks again but then gets up, picking up the toy and going to the bathroom to wash it. When he comes out he’s shirtless and he’s striped his gloves and his jeans too. Ricky looks him over appreciatively.

‘I’m sorry I ripped your shirt,’ he says, pouting a little for effect. 

‘It’s okay,’ Chris says, shrugging and coming to sit on the bed. ‘There’s a shower,’ he offers but Ricky shrugs back. 

‘Can we, like, _talk_ for a bit,’ he asks and Chris grins.

‘Sure,’ he says, nodding towards to bed, ‘get under the covers.’ 

So Ricky does, inhaling the musky smell of Chris' skin all over the sheets, and Chris lies down beside him, making sure the covers are completely tucked around him before lying down as well and hugging him. Ricky hums, feeling Chris relax around him. He closes his eyes and allows his body to soften, soothed by Chris’ closeness.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit to having a tiny soft spot for this fic (...that fact has no discernible bearing on the quality, I just really like it 😭) 
> 
> I have more superpowers lore for this one 🙌 so Ryan and Justin are both telepaths (no, I don't know why.. I may or may not have forgotten Justin was one before I introduced Ryan despite this being about two sentences apart 😅), Ricky has super strength because.. basically I thought it was funny, I was imaging Vinny to have powers like Quicksilver and Chris has the powers of one of the "baddies" on BNHA..
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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